by Eliza Jane
She tries a deep breath, her chest raising and falling in the most delicious way. “Seems okay.”
“Your ribs are bruised, but not broken. You’ll be sore for a few days, but you should heal fine.” I continue caressing her sides and stomach, until well after I’m satisfied there’s no real damage. Then I get up and toss her shirt on the bed beside her. “I’ll run you a warm bath. That should help relax your muscles.”
“Colt.” She grabs my hand and squeezes, hard, stopping me in my tracks. “Thank you.”
I nod once, then head into the bathroom.
I need the escape, and the safety of another room – with a locking door – to keep me away from her. It’s my fault she’s sitting out there on that bed in this cheap motel room, beaten and bruised and completely shaken up. What the fuck had I been thinking? What had McAllister been thinking? She wasn’t ready for this. I’d be surprised if she didn’t call her parents and get herself sent home the moment we got back.
I turn on the faucet in the bathtub, not wanting Taylor to wonder what I’m doing when she doesn’t hear the water running. Once the water’s warmed and filling the tub, I lean against the sink and splash cool water on my face, needing to get a hold of myself.
Chapter 17
Once Colt’s in the bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror. I look pale and stunned. My eyes are wide with shock. I take stock of my injuries, looking over my body in the mirror. My head hurts. My ribs are tender where Lars slammed into me, but mostly I’m shaken up. The sound of water running distracts me and I follow Colt into the bathroom.
Despite the rundown motel, the bathroom is clean and spacious with gleaming white tiles. Colt’s filled the tub and even used one of the little bottles of body wash to make bubbles. Heat vapors drift lazily from the steaming water and the scent of mint and lilac invite me forward.
I lean against the counter, watching Colt. I remember the way he jumped into action, his quick thinking, the way he tried to throw Lars off by acting like we were a couple locked out of our room, then saving me from the path of Lars’ hits. He doesn’t appear injured at all, no bruising, no blood. His hair is tousled as ever. He still looks gorgeous and in complete control, despite having just been in a fight.
He shuts off the water of the now filled tub and leans causally against the tiled wall, a slow, lazy smile on his lips as he inspects me. With the water turned off, it’s quiet and our breathing now seems amplified in the small space.
I look down at my fingers, suddenly self-conscious in just my bra, jeans and bare feet.
Colt comes up behind me, running his fingers softly along my injured side again. My breath catches, but I’m not sure if it’s from the ache I feel in my side or the tenderness in his touch. Our eyes meet in the mirror. His look is caring, worried. It’s a look I haven’t seen on him before.
I turn and face him, and hazel eyes sear into mine.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there. I should have never let him get that close to you.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left the port open so he could track us. I know better than that.”
He places a finger over my lips. “This was not your fault. It was your first field assignment. McAllister was wrong to send you out here so early.”
I swallow. His finger is still resting on my lips. He lets it fall away, almost reluctantly, but he doesn’t step back. Our bodies are separated by just inches.
Colt’s attention and my lack of a shirt has me flushed.
“Are you okay?” his voice is rough, yet gentle.
I nod, still looking up into his eyes. He towers above me, making me feel safe and secure in his presence. I don’t think, I lean into him, pressing my head against his chest. He hesitates for a second before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against him. I breathe into his chest, letting his masculine scent and strength comfort me.
Something about the warmth of the bathroom, his strong arms around me, his body pressed against mine shuts down the rational part of my brain and I’m left with a strange warmth tingling inside my body. I let my hands wander to his back, over the muscles of his solid shoulders and grab onto his shirt, clutching it in my fists. I fight off the tears that threaten to spill over again and just let Colt hold me.
Colt responds to my touch by pulling me even closer. I bury my head under his chin and allow myself to be comforted by his gentle concern. I let all the emotion and drama of the day fade away as we stand together in the steamy bathroom.
Colt leans back so he can look at me. He brings a hand up to cup my jaw, and his fingers work their way under my hair. My eyes fall closed at his touch. The pad of his thumb traces across my bottom lip and a little sound escapes the back of my throat as my lips part for him, ready and eager. Colt stiffens at the sound, studying me with confusion all over his face. He blinks down at me several times, the electricity humming between us. His eyes move down to look at my mouth. Colt wants to kiss me. My heart pounds in anticipation. But he doesn’t lean forward. He doesn’t press his lips to mine. He stands still, gazing down at me with wonder.
Suddenly he lifts me by my hips, and sets me on the counter in front of him, making us the same height. With his hand on my jaw again, he lifts my chin up to meet his mouth. He brushes his lips softly against mine, almost like he’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I feel his urgency, the raw need between us, and I kiss him back. The second I respond, softly opening my mouth against his, the kiss builds.
His kiss is intoxicating, knowing and I melt into him. I feel his tongue swirl with mine and let out a ragged moan, balling his shirt in my hands to pull him even closer.
Colt stops and pulls back, confusion all over his face. “I’m sorry.” He steps away. I can tell he regrets kissing me. Tears blur my vision.
He leaves and closes the door firmly behind him.
His departure leaves me reeling and weakened. I slide off the counter, and all the way down onto the floor. Warm tears stream down my cheeks as I process that Colt Palmer just kissed me.
* * *
I take my time in the bath, soaking away the stress and worry of the last several hours, including both the run in with Lars and my unexpected response to Colt’s kiss, who I’ve told myself time and again I should not like. Even though he’s bad for me, I can’t seem to control how I feel.
I go through the motions of shampooing and conditioning my hair, then lather the washcloth with the body wash that Colt has lined up on the edge of the bathtub. After today’s encounters…Lars…Colt…I struggle to organize my thoughts and feelings into compartments that make sense. The image of Colt lifting me by my hips and kissing me passionately was not something I would soon forget. I lean my head back against the edge of the bathtub and close my eyes.
Once I’m through with the bath, I comb out my wet hair, and find that Colt has somehow slipped my backpack just inside the door without me noticing. Great. Had that happened when I was crying on the bathroom floor? Or when I was naked in the tub? I dress quickly in my yoga pants and a long sleeved tee.
I leave the bathroom, my head ducked down. Colt is stretched out on one half of the bed, remote control in hand. He’s fallen asleep. I tiptoe around him and set my backpack down on the floor. But in my effort to maneuver around the bed, I stub my toe on the edge of the side table.
Damn it. I hop around on one foot, swearing under my breath.
“You okay?” Colt says, launching to his feet.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
He makes a move to come and help me, but I hold up my hand, stopping him. “I’m good.” The last thing I need is him touching me again.
“Okay.” He takes a seat in the chair by the door, wisely giving me some space. “I ordered some Chinese food. That alright with you?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, reminding me it’s been hours since breakfast.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the
door. Our food’s here. Thank God for the distraction.
Colt arranges the cartons of egg rolls, fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, and chow mein noodles in the center of the table. He cracks open a can of Coke and slides it toward me. “I know you like diet. But this has sugar. Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”
He hands me a pair of chopsticks.
I fumble with them, looking down.
“Did the bath help?” he asks, glancing up at me through his eyelashes.
I nod. “It did. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He smiles.
I’m relieved to see that things feel back to normal between us, the kiss already forgotten, which is both a relief, and sort of insulting.
He slides the container of fried rice toward me. “Eat. And stop thinking. Field assignments aren’t always like that. I know this seems crazy right now, but it won’t always. And getting some food in your system will help.”
I nod. The food does smell good. I try a bite of rice, wishing I had a fork. I manage to get some of it in my mouth, but most of the rice lands on the table in front of me.
Colt’s eyes follow my movements, and after another failed attempt with the chopsticks, he leans in toward me, taking my chopsticks. He loads them with rice and lifts the bite to my mouth. I hesitate for a second, then open it and let him feed me. “Good girl.”
I chew the rice and make myself swallow. He turns the chopsticks over to me, pushing the rice container closer. It’s nice to know that he cares enough to make sure I’m well fed. I can’t allow myself to mistake his concern for something it’s not though. I’ve seen his track record with girls. I have no plans to get on that list.
“Eat, Taylor,” he says, noticing I’m lost in my own thoughts again and thrusts the container of sweet and sour chicken toward me. “A few more bites.” He picks up the chopsticks I’ve distractedly set down and hands them to me again.
When it comes time for bed, without a word, Colt makes a pile of blankets on the floor for himself. This place isn’t exactly topping the cleanliness charts, the carpet looks sort of cruddy, but I keep my mouth shut, it’s not like I’m about to suggest that we share the bed. I’m not that stupid.
Chapter 18
I toss and turn on the hard mattress unable to sleep. I glance at the digital clock. One in the morning. I hear Colt turn over on the floor. I peek off the edge of the bed, trying to see if he’s awake. In the moonlight streaming through the curtains, I can see his eyes are open.
“Hi.” He looks up at me.
“Hi.” I giggle, feeling like I’ve been caught. “I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
I don’t say it’s because I’m freaking out about that kiss just as much as I am over our botched assignment earlier today.
He sits up, and stretches. I notice at some point, he changed into a pair of mesh shorts and a white T-shirt.
“Is there any Chinese food left?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “There might be an egg roll left.” He gets up, turns on a lamp and rummages through the containers we left on the table. “And some noodles too.”
He carries both containers over to me, setting them on the bed and hands me a pair of chop sticks.
“Thanks.”
“Mind if I turn the TV on?”
“Nope,” I say around a mouthful of noodles.
He flips on the TV, and stands at the end of the bed, flipping through the channels.
“You can sit with me.” I pat the side of the bed.
“Thanks.” He sits down, scooting up until his back is pressed against the headboard.
“Want a bite?” I offer him half the egg roll.
“I’m good, thanks.” He smirks.
We watch mindless middle of the night infomercials while I polish off the last of the Chinese food.
When I come back from brushing my teeth, Colt is sprawled out on the bed, looking a little too comfortable. I let it pass and lie down next to him.
I think about how different my life has become in the past few months. I miss living at home with my parents, I miss our pancake breakfasts on Saturday mornings, and working side by side with my dad on the computer – on things that would never get you attacked by a German jewel thief. I miss them more than I thought I would.
“Colt?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you miss your family, being away at the school, I mean?”
He’s quiet for a second, as if considering my question. “I miss my mom. My dad, not so much.” He rolls over onto his side, facing me. “Are you homesick?”
I nod, meeting his eyes. “I guess so.”
“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
“Nope.” The memory of Wes rears its ugly head, but I push back down.
“So what about you? After your heartfelt breakup with Bria yesterday…no girlfriend?”
He smirks. “I know you’ve heard the rumors about me by now,” he says calmly. “Not all of them are true, by the way.”
I notice he doesn’t deny that some of them are true, or clarify which ones are fact and which are fiction.
“Love is a farce” he says.
Oh, how original. A hot guy that doesn’t believe in love. I keep my mouth closed, waiting for him to explain himself.
He continues, “I mean love as an emotion, yes, that exists. I love sushi, for instance. But being in love – with one person? No.”
So he’s never been in love. I guess I haven’t really either. But I never doubted it existed. Seeing my parents together – the way my dad was an ass sometimes and my mom was calm and loving with him when I felt like storming to my room and slamming to the door –told me there was something deeper at work. Of course I loved my dad, but she was clearly in love with him. They still cuddled on the couch during movies and kissed goodbye every morning. I knew I wanted that someday. I believe in that.
“What about your parents? Are they still married?”
“Ah, no.” He clears his throat. “My mom passed away when I was fourteen. Cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.” I prop up on my elbow and look at him.
“Thanks.” He offers me a small smile. “I still miss her. That’s weird, right? I’ve lived much of my life without her.”
“That’s because you love her.” I’m determined to prove love is real.
His lazy smile captures me again, his eyes full of doubt.
I wondered how different I’d be if I’d grown up without my mother. Without her warm lap, her loving hands, her no-nonsense advice that shaped who I am today. No wonder he seemed so hardened. I wondered if he truly didn’t believe in love, or if he just hadn’t felt it in so long, he forgot it existed. It made me sad.
“Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I don’t get how planes fly, but they do, right?”
“Wise words, Taylor,” he teases.
Jerk.
Colt raises his arm, inspecting his leather bracelet. The strings are ragged and thin. I can’t imagine it’ll last much longer. He rolls it between his thumb and finger, turning the bracelet around on his wrist.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried about your mom and everything,” I offer.
“No, it’s okay. No one ever asks me about my mom. It’s like they’re afraid to.”
I nod.
“I’d rather talk about her than pretend like she didn’t exist, like my dad does.”
The cocky, arrogant Colt of earlier who fought to protect me is gone. This Colt is softer, gentler. It’s hard to keep up with all his sides. But I like this version of him best. I like that he’s trusting me with this side of himself – one I doubt he lets very many people see.
I brave another question. It’s nice to have Colt talking and opening up for once. “What kind of cancer was it?”
He straightens the pillow under his head. “Cervical cancer.”
I’m quiet for a second, wondering why Colt is opening up to me so much. “You can sleep up here if y
ou want.”
“Thanks,” he whispers.
“Just stay on your own side.”
“Will do. Night, Taylor.”
“Night.”
He flips off the TV, plunging us into darkness again. Underneath the warm covers, with the sound of Colt’s steady breathing next to me, I fall into a deep sleep, forgetting all about my bruised ribs, the crazy assignment gone wrong and even the kiss between me and Colt earlier, well almost.
Chapter 19
In the morning there’s an awkward moment where I struggle to remember where I am and who the brunette is next to me. Then it comes rushing back. Taylor. Our assignment. Fleeing our nice hotel for this place yesterday. I run my hands over my face. Between letting Lars get close to her and then that kiss, I’d fucked up big time.
I had no idea what I was thinking kissing her. But her big blue eyes were looking up at me, then she nuzzled into my chest, begging me to hold on to her, wanting me to protect her. With the smell of sweet vanilla, that lacy pink bra and the wanting in her eyes, I didn’t know what else to do. Something surged up inside me and I answered it the only way I knew how.
I lifted her up to me without thinking. And when my mouth touched hers the softest little feminine sound escaped her lips, driving me crazy with desire. If she made sounds like that from one simple kiss, I imagined what other sounds she would make, from surprise, from pleasure. I’d had to get out of there. Fast. I knew I hadn’t handled it the right way, but was grateful that she’d already forgotten about the kiss by the time her bath was done.
Taylor’s lying flat on her stomach, her head barely visible with a pillow over the top of it. Her legs are kicked apart, tangled in the sheets at the end of the bed. I slept on top of the blankets, needing that physical barrier between us. One of her hands is resting across my stomach. Her palm is pressed flat against me. Her hand is tiny and soft against my skin. I hold my breath when I realize what her hand is resting near. Not that I can help it, I always have one when I wake up. It’s just physiology.